


Rocket's Red Glare

by Dreaming_in_Circles



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Drabble, Fireworks, First Kiss, Flashbacks, Fourth of July, M/M, happy birthday steve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-04
Updated: 2014-07-05
Packaged: 2018-02-07 11:30:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1897350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dreaming_in_Circles/pseuds/Dreaming_in_Circles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's the Fourth of July, and Tony talks Steve into spending it in New York City. It's just, Steve still isn't used to spending it alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is entirely [n-a-blue-box's](http://n-a-blue-box.tumblr.com/post/90720934173/fourth-of-july-fic-someone-should-write) fault, because she came up with the idea and then drew some really beautiful art and I couldn't help myself. Just a short drabble because. Happy birthday, Steve.  
> Not beta'd, all mistakes are my own.

2014

Steve stood on the balcony of Stark Tower and stared out at the East River. It was almost time. Tony and Pepper were actually at the East River, and both had tried their hardest to convince Steve to come, but he'd opted out. He just couldn't. Besides, he'd argued, the Tower was tall enough that he could see just fine from there. Tony had built it back up after the Battle of New York, and he was very proud. Turns out stroking his ego a little was a good way to get him to leave you alone.

Steve wasn't entirely sure how Tony had talked him into this in the first place. He remembered the small hotel room he'd been staying in on his search for Bucky, how everyone stared at the man in the suit that was worth more than the whole building. Tony had said something about taking a break, getting a chance to enjoy the country he'd worked so hard to protect. It had been a good argument, and Steve wondered what Tony felt about, because the same could apply to him, too.

Steve checked his watch and leaned heavily on the railing. Everyone knew his birthday was today - Tony had harassed him to no end. Pepper had thrown a lovely party that morning, and a surprising number of their friend and fellow Avengers had shown up. Steve had tried to focus on that, and for a few hours it had worked. For a few hours, he actually smiled. The world felt a little lighter where it rested on his shoulders. 

But the party was over, the people had scattered. He was at Stark Tower by himself, waiting for the fireworks. 

The first one went off, loud, bright, it's concussive power reaching across the city to rattle his bones. Steve's head turned to the left slightly as the second rocket was launched. The air felt cold against his skin, despite the warm temperatures. He could hear people shouting below him on the streets, things like "Happy Birthday, America" and the Star-Spangled Banner. 

The fireworks picked up their tempo as more were launched simultaneously, and Steve was definitely not crying.

 

1938

"They're gonna be beautiful, Stevie." Bucky laughed, one arm thrown casually over the smaller man's shoulders as he stole of piece of Steve's cotton candy.

"You say that every year, Buck." Steve retorted back, slapping ineffectually at his friend's hand.

"Yeah, and I ain't been wrong yet!" Bucky responded brightly. "It must be great to get fireworks for your birthday, and they don't even cost us anything!"

Steve smiled as the pair continued down the street, making their slow way to the East River for the annual tradition of fireworks. The Fourth of July was a day spent at Coney Island going on rides and eating too much sugar before coming home to watch the fireworks.

They managed to find a good seat, close to the riverbank, and waited patiently for it to get dark. They didn't have to wait long before the sun went down and the first rocket went up. Steve could feel the sound in his chest as the firework exploded, and the grin on his face was immediate and huge.

"I got somethin' to tell ya, Steve." Bucky's voice was quite in Steve's ear, his mouth close enough that his warm breath raised goosebumps on Steve's neck. His body was a warm weight against Steve's left side.

"It's a secret." Bucky continued, leaning in closer. Steve turned to look at him, not at all sure where Bucky was going with this. 

Bucky brought a hand up to Steve's chin, holding it lightly in place, and leaned in slowly. Steve knew what was going to happen next, but that still didn't take the shock away as Bucky's lips met his and it felt so right.

Bucky pulled away quickly, dropping his hand from Steve's face, eyes searching for answers, acceptance, denial. Steve could barely breathe, but before Bucky could say anything, he leaned forward and kissed Bucky. Bucky tensed under the unexpected touch, then relaxed under Steve. When they pulled apart this time, Steve wasn't the only one who couldn't breathe.

"Someone's gonna see." Bucky breathed against Steve's neck.

Steve shook his head. "Too dark. Watchin' the show." He said as another firework exploded above them. Bucky grinned and pulled Steve down again. 

"Happy Birthday, Steve."

"Happy Fourth, Buck."

 

2014

There was a dark shadow hovering at the back of the crowded East River bank, a dark baseball cap pulled low over his eyes, too many layers of clothing for the hot weather. He stayed back, in the shadows of the building, separate from the other observers. It wasn't safe for him to be around them; crowds still made him nervous.

He had a name, several in fact, but he didn't know who he was. He knew this was familiar, though. The fireworks, the East River. There was something missing, though. He was too cold, to empty. Something vitally important was missing, forgotten. Left behind.

Another rocket, a bright blue one, exploded, bathing the area in blue light, and he remembered. A battlefield, a smoking radio, people who disappeared in a puff of blue smoke. The smell of gunpowder and smoke and sweat as he and three others ran for their lives and got caught anyway. His first encounter with Hydra.

A shiver crawled up and down his spine, and he shook his head to get rid of the feeling. Another firework exploded, and it sounded too much like a real rocket, something he would have fired at real people. He suddenly felt the need to get out of there as quickly as possible.

He pushed himself out of the shadows of the building and through the crowd quickly. There were too many people, though, and he wasn't moving quickly enough. Another shell - firework, it's a firework - caused him to jump, and he ran into someone, a tall woman with blond hair.

"Sorry." He muttered, grabbing her arm to make sure she kept her balance as she staggered a step. 

"Oh, it's fine." She responded easily. He nodded, let go, started to turn away, when she finished, "Happy fourth."

He froze, his brain supplying an automatic response he knew wasn't correct. "You too." He finally said back, and the practically ran down the rest of the street away from the crowd. The words 'happy birthday' and 'Steve' swirled around in his brain, but he forced them down. 

He got away from the East River, headed deeper into Manhattan, hoping to hide in the shadows of the gigantic buildings. The tallest, of course, was Stark Tower, and when he stared up it, he thought he could see someone standing up there on a balcony, by themselves. Stark, maybe?

He turned away, continued down the street, thoughts of carnival rides, fireworks, and gunshots filling his mind. Also a tiny body, pressed against his side, a secret shared between two people. This was important, vitally so, but he couldn't remember what the secret was. He couldn't remember what was missing.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is for MomoftheShire, who asked for just a bit more. Sorry it's late; I was out the whole day. Hope you like it.

Steve couldn't sit through the whole show. Fifteen minutes in and it all felt so wrong. His skin itched and his body felt restless. He always spent the fourth with Bucky, always went to the fireworks with him. He hadn't been to any celebrations since waking up in the twenty-first century, and it just felt wrong to start now.

He went inside, ran away from the lights and the bangs, but the Tower, for all its hight, suddenly felt very small. Too small. Steve craved air, space, and something he knew he wasn't going it get.

He left Stark Tower, slipping out through a back exit, away from the drunken revelry of the main streets. He clung to the shadows and the stench of the back alleys, still hiding from the firework's flashes. There were a few others like him, some in pairs, necking and groping in the partial privacy; others just too drunk to realize they were in the wrong place as they puked up their celebration. 

It wasn't pretty, but at least it wasn't the fireworks.

He took a random path, ignored anyone that tried to talk to him, kept his head low and eyes down. He didn't want to be Captain America now, didn't want to live up to someone's expectation. He couldn't even live up to his own; how was he supposed to make someone else's life better?

The air was hot and muggy on the street, oppressive and reeking. It reminded him of nights in Brooklyn, too hot to breathe, sheets plastered to sweat-slicked skin. Bucky would come home from work over-heated and dehydrated, nearly sick to his stomach. It was one of the few times Steve worried about Buck, and not the other way around...

Steve had to stop walking, pressed his hand to the nearest wall for support, closed his eyes. It seemed Bucky just wouldn't leave him tonight...

Someone walked by, on his left, kept their distance, but then turned and stopped. Stared. Steve lifted his eyes slowly, looking back through his lashes. The person was a dark shadow of existence, too many dark, baggy clothes making him seem blurry around the edges. 

"Happy Fourth of July." Steve muttered, for want of anything else to say.

"Hap-" The person started, voice hoarse and cracking before the word could finish. Steve nodded, eyes trailing away, and waved a tired hand; the man didn't need to finish-

"Happy birthday, Steve."

He looked up in shock at the man. And a little frustration, if he was being honest with himself. "Thanks." He muttered back.

There was a long pause, where the two just stared at each other. Steve wanted to shout, scream, tell him to go away and let him be miserable in peace. What did he want, why was he bothering him? But he couldn't do that; he'd never forgive himself.

Instead, Steve pushed himself off the wall, turned away. There was always another alley he could sob in. 

"What was the secret?"

Steve sighed, shoulders slumping. He turned back to the man. "Who are you?"

And then the person was next to him, pushing him, slamming Steve against a wall, pushing his own hat off his head, and it was-

"Bucky?" Steve asked incredulously. He was filthy, in need of a shower, his hair was still long, he still looked like he didn't know Steve, trust Steve, but there was something definitively 'Bucky' about him.

"What was the secret?" The man insisted angrily, pushing hard against Steve. "What was so important about the Fourth of July?"

"Bucky, what-?" Steve tried to ask, but Bucky pulled him forward and pushed him back against the wall in clear frustration. Not enough to hurt, but enough to make a point.

"It was important!" Bucky yelled, and Steve was glad they were alone in the alley. Bucky's entire body was quivering with nervous energy, his face distorted in pain and confusion and focus. "It was you, when you were little, when you fit-" He stopped, eyes trailing to the left, as if remembering. "It was terrifying. And we couldn't get caught-" His eyes suddenly went wide, almost comically so, and Steve suddenly knew which secret Bucky was talking about.

"Buck." Steve started, then stopped and licked his lips before trying again. "Buck, look at me, please."

Bucky kept his eyes trained on Steve's chest, and something about the way he stood said he wasn't hearing Steve at all. He was lost in some memory, some piece of the past.

It felt like empires and risen and fallen before Bucky moved again. Slowly, so slowly, he moved his hands from Steve's body and placed them on the wall on either side. He leaned in, to the point where Steve could feel the heat coming off his body, and closed his eyes. His breathing was slow, even, and he looked almost calm, if not quite relaxed.

Steve didn't say anything, barely breathed as he worried about Buck and treasured this stolen moment of comfort. It was familiar, it was correct. He could still hear the faint echo of fireworks on the river, several, all in rapid succession. The finale. The end of their stolen time. As true in 1938 as it was now.

Bucky opened his eyes and lifted his chin, eyes firmly fixed on the wall behind Steve. "I need time."

"I want to help." Steve responded immediately, his voice little more than a whisper.

Bucky frowned. "Always did."

"Yeah."

There was a long silence. Steve doubted Bucky would back down, but he also knew he couldn't. Not if there was a chance he could help.

"I really need time." Bucky said again. Steve opened his mouth to argue and Bucky pressed a slim finger over it, effectively silencing him in his tracks. "But. I'll call you." There was a hand in his pants pocket, and something solid was slipped in. When Bucky pressed his hand over it, Steve could feel the outline of a cell phone. "Okay?"

Steve took a shaky breath. "Okay."

Bucky closed his eyes again, forehead furrowing as if in pain, and swayed closer still to Steve. He opened his eyes, turned his head, pressed a chaste kiss to Steve's cheek. It lasted barely a moment, and then Bucky pulled away altogether, turning and walking down the street.

Steve watched him go, breathless, and would swear to anyone who asked that he could hear his heart breaking. His hand went to his pocket, touched the cool plastic of the cell phone. It was okay. This was... this was good. Acceptable. Bucky would have time and Steve... Steve would have Bucky, however Bucky would have him. And if, at this moment, that was at arm's length, so be it.


End file.
